


Good Measure

by anotherFMAfan



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: 5/20, M/M, RoyXEd Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6920284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherFMAfan/pseuds/anotherFMAfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, things can spiral out of control when alcohol is involved. And sometimes, they don’t even need that…. RoyXEd, NC-17. Happy 5/20!!! </p><p>Warnings: Discussion of hazing of a minor, but NC-17 content is between adults. Mild dubcon (Roy), masochism, spanking, topping from the bottom, alcohol use</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Measure

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Diverges to AU near the end of the ’03 anime. Al is restored and Ed is 18.
> 
> This is pretty vanilla as far as kinkfic goes, but please do read the warnings.

  
“I’ve decided what you’re getting me.”  
  
Brigadier General Roy Mustang crooked an eyebrow and glanced up at Edward Elric, sitting sprawled on one of the leather couches in his office in Central Headquarters.  
  
“‘Getting you?’” he repeated indulgently when no further information was offered, and continued signing forms.  
  
“Yeah, for my birthday. It’s on Sunday, you know.” The teenager jiggled his boot idly, posture casual, but his eyes were riveted to the man behind the desk.  
  
“And what makes you think I would be getting you something?”  
  
Ed gave a snort.  
  
“You know you are. Give it up.”  
  
In reality, Roy usually pitched in to the office presents arranged by Hawkeye, but she was always tactful enough to let him sign the card the biggest, so what Ed didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  
  
“So, I’ve decided what you’re getting me,” he repeated, and Roy smirked.  
  
“Good luck with that,” he said, signing the last page in the packet and returning his pen to its holder. He straightened the packet and set it on top of the pile of finished paperwork. Edward watched him for a few more moments, silently, and then slowly spoke.  
  
“…You know what you did at my 15th birthday party?”  
  
Roy’s hands froze. Dread erupted in his veins as he _willed_ his face to stone.  
  
Oh yes, he knew what he did. Thanks to more alcohol than any human should consume, he did not _remember_ what he did, but he knew. Edward had been bright red, sullen, and had refused to meet his eye the following Monday, so he’d been forced to ask Breda for the details of exactly what had happened in between Roy arriving at the party (which he vaguely remembered) and being the sicker than the sickest of dogs the next day (which he remembered in excruciating detail).  
  
Roy’s stomach had tightened again, numb with disbelief, as he had listened to the recounting of his own behavior, the explanation of how Hawkeye had gone home, how one joke had led to another and how three shots had led to four, and things span out of control.  
  
Even now, it sent chills down Roy’s spine to think about what a close call it had been, professionally speaking. A high-ranking military officer forcing his fifteen-year-old subordinate over his lap to spank him…. Breda confirmed that Ed had shouted multiple times for him to stop, and had even confessed, reluctant to get his friend in trouble but understanding that Roy had to have the truth, that Havoc had helped hold Edward down (after all, he wasn’t easy to hold down against his will). Breda didn’t say just who had pulled Ed’s leather pants down to his thighs, but Roy had known with a sick certainty it must have been himself. If anyone with a bone to pick with Roy outside his team had gotten even a _whiff_ of such a thing, internal investigations would have been on his doorstep faster than he could blink.  
  
Roy Mustang was ashamed of many things in his life, and this particular shame was one that had burned at him, especially because he had never apologized to Ed for it. That was different from them teasing him and thumping him on the back and putting him through his paces as part of the pack. That was different than the things Ed went through when out in the field. When looked at from the outside, it was hazing at best, and flat-out sexual assault at worst; from the inside it didn’t look much better. Edward had trusted them. They were the closest things to friends the boy had. He was the only minor present and the only one who hadn’t been drinking. It had been Roy’s responsibility to protect him, and instead he had...he didn’t even want to think about it. He was fifteen, it was his _birthday party_. He had so little in his life then to enjoy. It was unfair to Ed and it was Roy’s fault alone, but he had never been able to bring himself to talk to him about it. By the time he’d found out what had happened, Ed was gone on a mission again, and when he’d come back, it had been so easy to slip back behind his smirk, to condescend and provoke him, to leave the balance of power tipped in Roy’s favor. Ed had never said a word.  
  
Until today.  
  
The boy was looking him right in the eye, waiting for an answer. Roy wanted to look away, but forced himself to hold his gaze. No, it was finally time to own up to this particular crime. It was time to let the boy call him out on it and tell him he hated him for it. It was only what he deserved; he was only reaping what he had sewn. After all, Roy’s mortification at the thought of his own behavior must be nothing compared to how Edward had felt when Roy had humiliated him in front of his peers.  
  
Roy had to clear his throat to make sound come out.  
  
“I do.”  
  
Edward stood up and started to approach his desk, and Roy also found himself standing, though whether it was because he intended to give a formal apology or simply in response to Ed’s movement, he hadn’t yet decided. Edward didn’t stop in front of the desk, however; he continued around to the side to stand directly in front of him, and Roy turned to face him.  
  
“Along those lines,” Edward said, looking up at him with determination and…something else, he wasn’t sure what, in his eyes.  
  
“…What lines?” Roy asked warily, and Edward quirked an irritated eyebrow as though he were being intentionally obtuse.  
  
“Do it again,” he said, as though that were supposed to clarify things. He opened his mouth, but Ed must have realized he was still clueless by the look on his face, because he had already seized his wrist in a metal grip and was dragging him out into the room, back to the leather couch. Roy stumbled a little but followed, seeing as the strength of that hold didn’t leave him much choice anyway, and when they came to a stop, Ed poked a metal finger into his chest.  
  
“Fullmetal, what—”  
  
“Sit down.”  
  
He did, slowly, wondering why exactly Edward wanted to verbally eviscerate him on the couch rather than at the desk, but seeing as he was the penitent party in this situation, perhaps it wasn’t his place to question.  
  
Then Edward Elric tilted Roy Mustang’s universe on its axis by putting his knees on the couch, bending himself over Roy’s thighs and twisting to look up at him expectantly in one fluid motion. Roy gaped wordlessly, like a fish.  
  
He was not…he was NOT—  
  
He _was_.  
  
“Fullmetal, get up!” he said, horrified, pushing on one of the boy’s shoulders. He meant “along the lines” of the _party_ three years ago, what he was asking him to “do again” was— _spanking_ him.  
  
“Come on,” Ed urged him, tightening his grip on the couch cushions to keep his position.  
  
“No, absolutely not, I —” His tone was firm, but how could he let himself say something as hypocritical as _I would never?_ Because apparently, on the contrary, he did, he _had_ , he was already guilty of that. Was this some kind of bizarre attempt to further shame him, to punish him for having done it in the first place?  
  
“Come on,” Ed repeated, scowling now. “It’s my birthday! Or it almost is. This is what you’re giving me. Now hit me.”  
  
He couldn’t possibly be serious. He couldn’t—he just _could_ _not_ be seriously intending to do this.  
  
“No, Fullmetal—”  
  
“I said, ‘hit me!’”  
  
“Get up, we—we have to talk, I don’t know what—”  
  
“There’s nothing to talk about!” Ed snapped, voice rising. “You know exactly _what_ , you bastard, you know every bit as well as I do.”  
  
“Yes, I admit—I did it,” Roy said, throwing up his hands in surrender, trying to appease Ed’s rage, trying to get him to back down, to relent, to just stop shouting, but his fury only seemed to increase.  
  
“Good,” he snarled, damning eyes flashing at him, “Now all you have to do is do it _again_. Your hand, my ass! I don’t have all fucking day, now get a damn move on and _fucking hit me!_ ”  
  
It was ridiculous, it was sheer lunacy, but god help him, Roy hit him. He pulled back his hand and brought it down with a resounding smack on the upturned backside of the most completely baffling blond guilt-trip he had ever met. Ed hissed in a breath through his teeth, body jerking, eyes flicking shut as he turned to face forward.  
  
“Again!” he said, loud and demanding, and Roy obeyed, his own hand buzzing with the slight sting of the tanned leather as his hand came down a second time. Edward encouraged him with a growled, “Yes!” when he brought his hand down the third time without prompting, and then again, and again, and what the actual fuck was going on?  
  
Why? Why had that conversation led to this, why was Roy _doing_ it and why on earth would Edward _want_ him to do this to him again? His brain kept circling around to the same obvious conclusion, and he kept rejecting it in disbelief.  
  
This just couldn’t be…this just couldn’t be _sexual_ …. But incredulous though he may have been, deaf or blind Roy Mustang was not.  
  
There was the way Edward gasped and groaned…he could even say _moaned_ with each strike, the way his neck was arched back, the way his face was flushed. The way his breath was hitching, and his chest heaving, the way his hands were clenched into fists on the couch cushions, the way his eyebrows were drawn up.  
  
No, this was sexual, all right. In fact, this already was _sex_ , he realized numbly as he slapped him again and felt the hot bulge of Edward’s erection pulse against his leg, they had somehow started having sex before he had even known it was happening.  
  
When Roy brought his hand down harder Edward let out a long and shameless moan of ecstasy, and Roy’s body abruptly started to wake up and realize what his brain was still struggling to grasp: that Edward Elric got off on being spanked-- was indeed right smack-dab in the _midst_ of getting off on being spanked right before his very eyes, and wasn’t being quiet about it.  
  
Roy’s cock surged to attention in his pants, and he was momentarily appalled with himself. His left hand flew to his crotch, but arrived before his brain had figured out whether it had been in a futile attempt to prevent an erection or to adjust it so it could stand up more comfortably. His cock, for its part, complained loudly that Roy was having kinky sex, he had just admitted it himself, and that was a perfectly appropriate time to be erect.  
  
He let his hand fly through the air again even as his brain screeched that being hard was by no means a requirement of this situation, because this had nothing to do with him or his cock, really; this was about Ed and the fact that he liked to be spanked. Roy was really nothing but a provider of the spanking…but he was, in such, the provider of the pleasure, as well, and that’s what it meant to have a partner in sex. Could he then really claim that he wasn’t in this just as much as Ed was, that this had nothing to do with him?  
  
Maybe…maybe it did have something to do with him, maybe it had everything to do with him. Roy had no work for Fullmetal at the moment, and he had not summoned him. The natural conclusion his presence would seem to draw was that Edward came to the office specifically to…to be hit. Specifically to ask for this--demand it, really—and from Roy, Ed wanted it from _him_. His cock throbbed hard against its constraints at the thought. His left hand was already there, and he opened the button of his pants and pulled the zipper down to relieve the pressure, fingers sliding along his hardened length, for which his cock was all-too-eager to praise him and tingle in gratitude.  
  
These moments of shocked internal debate and adjusting of cloth, however, had caused his right hand to still where it was, and Ed looked back at him.  
  
“Mustang!” he pleaded, his voice pure lust, low and drawn out on that guttural vowel, and Roy’s whole body sang, his cock leapt for joy. That was him, that was his name, Edward had just moaned his _name_. How had he never noticed that the word that started with _M_ and ended in _G_ that Ed sometimes substituted for “Bastard” was his _name_? How had he never noticed what it _sounded_ like when Ed said it?  
  
His hand obeyed and spanked Ed again on its own, and Ed writhed encouragingly, panting.  
  
“Yes,” he gasped, “yes, just like that—” but he broke off again when Roy’s next blow landed, face contorting into an expression of either pain or unbearable pleasure, Roy had no way of knowing which, but oh _god_ —  
  
Someone gave a deep moan, and it wasn’t Ed, but Edward rubbed himself on Roy’s thigh and moaned a little in reply, turning his face back forward and waiting for the next.  
  
_Smack!_  
  
_Smack!_  
  
_Smack!_  
  
But Roy’s inner sex god was frantically ringing its largest warning bells and scrounging up every experience with crops or whips or other things and waving them in his face. Edward’s reactions, the way he moaned and moved told him it was still… still good for him, still pleasurable, but Roy would have to be careful not to overdo it. He’d been hitting hard, over leather, no less, and though he had no idea how many times he’d hit him, it was sure as hell more than the fifteen of that forgotten night or the eighteen he’d demanded for this birthday.  
  
Edward was humping his leg in earnest, now, almost desperate. He was close, he had to be, please let him be close, because as much as he agreed with his inner sex god and wanted to get Ed there, it was getting hard to concentrate. His own body was piqued and pleading with him for satisfaction, and the sounds Ed was making were really not helping, the heat and hardness of him against Roy’s leg, and—  
  
He took a quick breath, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them, focused. Roy ran his hand over Ed’s sensitized bottom, making him hiss, and then waited, and waited, waited until Ed was growling in impatience and moving his hips like he was trying to start a fire. Waited until the last second before Ed couldn’t take being made to wait anymore, and he could hardly bear it himself.  
  
Roy whipped his arm back and spanked Ed again, hard, the sound loud in the room, and Ed echoed each with a throaty cry, once, twice—  
  
And he watched Ed orgasm right there, _right there_ in his lap, mouth open and body shuddering as he gasped in bliss and oh, holy fuck, Roy was going to come in his pants.  
  
But the moment passed, and Ed collapsed over him, groaning softly as his body continued to twitch. Roy was unbearably turned on but had not come, his chest heaving. The crotch of his boxers was wet through where his erection pressed against them, and he hurriedly undid the button to allow it to stand up freely through the opening. His cock was flushed dark and the tip was a livid red where it visible. He was so far gone it wouldn’t take much, but when he reached to touch himself, a gloved hand seized his wrist before he could. Roy looked over to find Edward’s eyes on him, watching him from where he lay, and felt a jolt.  
  
Roy was afraid for a moment as he searched Ed’s face that he’d find disgust in his expression, accusing him, damning him for the expression of arousal there between his thighs, but it wasn’t so. Far from it, in fact. Ed released his hand and let his legs slide backwards off the couch to the ground. He knelt there and leaned forward between Roy’s knees, and with a sudden rush of terrible excitement, he knew what Edward was trying to do.  
  
Roy shot his hand up to press against the top of Ed’s blond head just in time to prevent his lips from making contact with Roy’s body, a groan of distress tearing from his throat as he did. Edward was his subordinate and his friend, he couldn’t let Ed do this, even if it was the boy’s own choice. Roy had to protect him, he _had_ to protect him this time, even—no, _especially_ from Roy himself, but oh _god_ —  
  
Ed tried to move against his hand, mouth open to accept Roy’s cock, which was screaming in agony for him from less than an inch away. Roy’s voice, which had abandoned him the moment he’d first acquiesced to Ed’s demands, suddenly returned, only to burst from him, horse and desperate.  
  
“NO, Fullmetal, don’t do this to me, I’m only a man,” he sobbed, because this wasn’t right, he had to stop him, but he couldn’t recall ever so viscerally _wanting_ something as badly in his life as he did in that moment, his entire body bent toward one desire. His self-control was down to the thinnest of threads, and if Ed didn’t back down, he knew he would succumb. He could only beg Edward for mercy, beg him not to test him, not to test his good intentions against the pounding need that had taken over his body and made a captive of him.  
  
Ed looked up at Roy from under the trembling hand on his head, his cheeks still flushed with exertion and his golden eyes eager. Edward licked his moist lips, panting breath puffing against Roy’s cock where it stood, twitching.  “Please, please,” Roy said raggedly, but it was too much, he was lost; he no longer knew if he was begging him to touch him or begging him not to, and he found his hips starting to cant forward as his breath stuttered in and out of his lungs. Edward extended his tongue and flapped a lick on the underside of the head, where he could just barely reach while being held at bay.  
  
Roy crumbled. Edward immediately pushed forward, rolling the head of his cock along his tongue as he took it deep into his hot mouth, and with one strong suck Roy was arched back to the ceiling and knew heaven anew.  
  
Gradually, the endless white abated, and color returned to his vision. He came back down to find he was still alive, and still in his office. He let himself breathe for a few more seconds before slowly lifting his head to locate the one to thank for his trip off of the planet earth, and found him sitting where he’d last seen him, wiping his mouth on the back of one gloved hand.  
  
As he took in the sight of him there, sitting on his knees between Roy’s legs, he was struck again by how surreal this had become, that he and Fullmetal, of all people he knew in the wide world, had just done that, were here panting through the afterglow together. Edward was staring back at him, though Roy could only suppose it seemed less surreal to him seeing as he’d planned it, seeing as he was the one who had selected Roy as designated _S_ to his _M_.  
  
“Is it me?” he found himself asking, mouth moving without any permission whatsoever from his brain, but as his brain had just melted out his ears, it was in no position to object. “Does it matter if it is or not,  is…is it just the…spanking?” It was completely honest and raw and very much not something Roy Mustang would ever permit himself to ask someone when in his right mind.  
  
Edward looked surprised and Roy really couldn’t blame him, considering how he himself felt about this development, but the expression coalesced into an intensity of focus that made Roy’s breath falter. He braced his hands on Roy’s knees and pushed up. Then his mouth was open over Roy’s, his tongue was somehow in his mouth and Roy’s tongue and lips were responding, and they were kissing. For the second time in short succession Roy was informed of an activity that was taking place only after he had already been made a participant. Edward pulled back a fraction to speak against his mouth.  
  
“It’s you,” he answered, and licked along the length of Roy’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, from one corner to the other. “It’s both.” His eyes were so bright at this distance as they looked directly through Roy’s recently-vacated head to his soul.  
  
“Say my name.” Another request Roy had never allowed to pass his lips, and was now distantly horrified to hear whispered in his own voice.  
  
“…Roy Mustang,” Edward offered, low and soft, and the third and final thing Roy’s brain belatedly informed him was that he had leaned forward and was kissing Edward Elric for all he was worth.  
______________  
  
At 5:00PM, Ed left the room to go to the bathroom. This spurred a flurry of activity in the office. Hawkeye and Havoc produced a wrapped box seemingly from nowhere, and the others gathered around, speaking in low voices and glancing at the door.  
  
Roy Mustang, for his part, closed his eyes, ran a slightly sore hand across his face and tried desperately to get himself together. The unbelievably dangerous, potentially career-ending activity he had been engaging in on military property had occurred while the rest of his staff had been attending a mandatory afternoon assembly. By the time they had returned, Roy Mustang had been able to scoop his brain back inside his head, straighten his uniform and check the scene of the crime for any damning evidence, but he most certainly had _not_ been able to get any less mentally discombobulated.  
  
Then his team had flooded back in, and Edward had sat down on the same damn leather couch he’d just had the shit spanked out of him on and _stayed there_. That had done very little for Roy in terms of being able to get his wits about him, and it was all he could do to even pretend to do his paperwork. Finally having Ed out of the room was a slight reprieve, but it was certain to be brief.  
  
“Hurry, he’ll be back any moment,” he heard Hawkeye warn, echoing his own thoughts. Opening his eyes, he saw that Fuery was signing the card, and Falman waiting impatiently for the pen.  
  
“I need to sign that, too,” Roy stated, nodding to the card as it was passed off to Vato.  
  
Hawkeye looked at him, eyebrows arched in surprise.  
  
“Is that so, Sir? Edward mentioned you were giving him a present, so I assumed you had something else arranged.”  
  
“Yeah, he sure seemed excited about it, what did you get the boss?” Havoc inquired, sitting back down at his desk.  
  
What little composure Roy Mustang had managed to gather fled. He froze where he was as every eye in the room turned to him.  
  
At that exact moment, the door flew open and Roy was delivered by Edward’s re-entrance. His eyes dropped to the box on the table, and his face split into a familiar grin.  
  
“That for me?”  
  
“You’ve ruined the surprise,” Hawkeye pretended to admonish, but was smiling herself.  
  
“My bad,” Ed laughed, and Roy’s body gave a shiver of visceral association at the hint of sex-husk that he could still detect in it.  
  
“Hey, Boss, what’d the general get you? He won’t tell,” huffed Havoc.  
  
Everyone turned to look at Roy again, but before he could even begin to come up with something, Ed gave an easy smile.  
  
“He’s taking me out, and all of you old fogies, too. Time for my first legal round of booze! Let’s go, drinks are on his tab!”  
  
There was a general cheer of approval at this statement, and Breda slapped Ed on the back, and then a merry commotion was over the room as all the officers hurried to close folders or dash off last notes for Monday and gather their things.  
  
Edward watched this for a moment before his eyes found Roy’s over the desk, giving a lopsided smile, and Roy couldn’t help but smile back, all the anxious confusion that the afternoon’s events had left him falling away. Even at eighteen, Edward Elric could be a brat and a pain in the ass, he could be ridiculous and demanding and irritating, but he also had a capacity for generosity that Roy could never emulate. In that one line he had set back the clock and given them a chance to do things over again.  
  
There was a rush for the door, and then a brief discussion of bars and taxis and who was riding with whom, Hawkeye giving Ed’s shoulder a squeeze before they filed out to freedom and Roy and Ed were alone in the office again.  
  
Ed walked over toward the desk, hands stuffed in his pockets.  
  
“Hope you’ve got a bonus coming in,” he grinned, and Roy snorted. Then he let his face turn serious, took a deep breath.  
  
“About that night…” he began. Edward started to shake his head as if to forestall his words, and the temptation was there to allow Ed to let him, too, off the hook, but he was supposed to be the adult here, damn it, and he had to say it while he could.  
  
“I should have said it before, there’s no excuse—”  
  
“No,” Ed interrupted with a sharp shake of the head, looked off to the side. “I admit I was pissed about it at the time, but I’m good, I’m over it.” His eyes moved back to Roy’s, searching him. “You couldn’t even remember it afterward, could you?”  
  
It was his turn to break eye contact, letting his eyes slip down to the desk, letting his silence answer for him. But he rallied, and lifted his chin.  
  
“I’m sorry, Edward. Truly, I apologize.” The words weren’t easy to say, but he really meant them, and Ed seemed to know, nodded to accept them, but then seemed to catch himself doing it and shook his head again.  
  
“Look, it’s done, okay? It’s over. Don’t beat yourself up about it, alright? Let’s go have fun tonight.” On that note he gave him a bright smile and turned to the coat rack, now bearing only two lonely coats after the stampede.  
Roy let out a breath and closed his eyes briefly. Edward Elric and his blessed inability to let others suffer. He was forgiven.  
  
Ed brought him his greatcoat, and Roy rose and straightened his own desktop a little before accepting it, pulling it on as they walked companionably through the empty office to the door. Ed broke the silence as Roy switched off the lights in the breaker box and pulled the door shut.  
  
“And, hey, you know… I did learn something about myself that I might never have known otherwise,” he purred, low and seductive, and Roy suddenly fumbled the office keys, whipping his head to the side to look at him before he’d even really registered what he’d said. Ed looked up at him, his eyes filled with heat and desire and something Roy could now identify, incredibly, as _spank sex_ (holy shit), and lastly but definitely not least, something fierce, almost… _possessive_. Edward then took hold of Roy’s coat-sleeve and pulled on it hard, hauling Roy down closer to his height, and Roy’s lungs and heart and brain all raced to double-time at once.  
  
He could feel Ed’s breath, his hot lips so close, so _close_ , almost right against his ear, spreading goose-bumps down his body as he whispered to him, just shy of brushing his skin.  
  
“Thanks for my present.”  
  
Then the warmth was gone, _Ed_ was gone, and was walking on ahead of him, leaving Roy there to gape in shock, and he found his body leaning after him involuntarily. Finally he wrenched his attention back to the keys, flipping through them and stabbing distractedly to get the right one in the lock. The boy had tilted Roy’s entire world back off-center in two sentences, and he found himself wondering faintly if he’d ever be able to find his footing, get his equilibrium back for good, but really—  
  
_How much longer would he even care?_  
  
  
*     *     *     *     *

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:  
> I hesitated to post this, because there is already so much FANTASTIC RoyXEd Spankfic out there by so many wonderfully talented authors, but if you are still reading, thank you for sitting through my own little try at it <3


End file.
